


Somewhat of a phoenix metaphor

by minroud



Category: The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel - Michael Scott
Genre: Gen, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2018-12-26 12:29:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12059013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minroud/pseuds/minroud
Summary: 1991John Dee walks on the rubble of a house he had seen standing the day before. Its dwellers are now dead: only a wide-eyed toddler escaped the fire the Englishman had lit. And the good doctor feels it is his duty to bring her to safety.2007Young Florencia "Flo" Cecil calls her tutor in distress: it's the day before one of her course's most challenging exams, and she's starting to have an anxiety attack. He comforts the young woman, telling her everything comforts the young woman, telling her everything is going to be okay.The date is 31 May, and his words are as close to the truth as he is to get his hands on the final summoning.





	1. Ashes to ashes

John was stepping on the ashes of what once was a house.

It was not the first time in his life he had found himself in such scenario, nor the first time he was regretting the series of events that had led him there. However, this was not a selfish pity or a concern for his life since the Flamels had managed to escape again. This was true grief, or at least, what the English Magician could understand like true grief in that time of his life. The couple living there had given him a place to stay when he needed a helping hand, and when no one in the little Spanish village would help a stranger. They had given them food, they’d asked only generic and polite questions. Nothing personal, nothing about his travels, nothing that eventually would put them at risk.

“But they are both dead now,” John thought, as he rubbed the meaningless black powder that had been part of the entrance room between his bare fingers.

He had started the fire. He always did. But that time, Perenelle had used it as a distraction too, and it had gone a little off everybody’s hands. It sure as hell had been a good distraction, though. The Sorceress and her husband would be at least in France by then. The fire had made John unconscious, and that meant he was taken to the nearest hospital, which was an hour and a half away. In the end, it had all been unnecessary: he had no smoke in his lungs and only a few scratches and had managed to get away before the Spanish police got to ask him any questions. He was grateful for that. Spaniards were a nuisance.

Of course, that avoiding-the-law relief was in clear disagreement with him going back to that village where everybody knew everybody and so knew he was a complete stranger with a single look. However, he felt he had to pay his respects, even if the bodies were still in a far off morgue.

That was maybe the reason why when the middle aged, short haired woman asked if he knew the family, he answered he was an old friend of theirs.

“You must come with me then” said the woman, who was wearing and apron and hadn’t introduced herself. “Come, come” she insisted, using the informal verb tense instead of the polite one John had expected to hear. “Flora was over in my house playing with my little ones when it all happened. She's spent the night, but I’m sure you’ll know someone who can take care of her better than us” John opened and closed his mouth. The woman couldn’t be stopped. “It’s a tragedy, you know, what happened to Miguel and Sandra, but they weren’t from here, and they have no one. All her things were destroyed in the fire, too, and we have four already... We can’t take care of here” she added, opening her tiny yard door. Her house was only a few away from the Velez’s, but it hadn’t been damaged. They couldn’t have got that much of a sleep though, with a fire so close—even if they hadn’t been out the moment it grew big, the authorities had evacuated the whole street.

Once they entered the house, they when into the living room, and John was not offered a seat “Those are my Roberto and Catalina” the woman said, “and there’s little Flora”.

John looked down and met two dark, big eyes. He had seen them before, but only in the pictures Miguel and Sandra had in the house. She was only supposed to spend the afternoon at the neighbors’, and she wasn’t going to see her parents anymore thanks to the very powerful and resourceful Doctor John Dee.

“I...” the doctor said when he was certain he’d been given the chance to speak “I only knew her parents from the university. I truly wouldn’t know what to do with her. She is a social system business...”

“Well, she has to stay with someone in the meantime, and that someone isn’t us” said her lovely conversation partner, closing the living room door behind her so they were in the corridor again. John had already noticed the poor creature’s parents weren’t precisely liked in town. “She’s got nothing here.”

John tried to avoid having to deal with the child a few more times, knowing from the start the battle was lost. Then he gave the woman the address of a house that wasn’t his and followed her back into the room where the children were playing, wondering how many tears would he have to endure when Flora was told she had to leave her game partners for an unknown man.

She didn’t shed one.

 

John spent the rest of the day driving: he only stopped for fuel, toilet, and food for the infant before getting to Madrid, and he used gas stations for the three subjects. Flora was very quiet for a three-year old, and John kept checking she was alive via his mirror. The longest he resisted without doing so was five minutes.

That the wide-eyed toddler had woken somewhat of a paternal or protective instinct in him did not mean John Dee was going to be bothered by the child. His plans were simple. He was going to get to the flat which address he’d given to the village harpy, he was going to get a nice night’s sleep and the morning after, he was giving the child to the Spanish social services so they did with her whatever they found suitable.

And his plan went smoothly until the last step.

 

“And why do you want to give this child up?”

The social services woman had been extraordinary polite, but yet John felt uneasy in her presence. It had something to do with her face. Yes, he had a problem with those piggy eyes.

“She’s actually not my child,” said John, while he secured his arms around Flora like a seat belt. She had woken up rather active that morning. “Her parents were...” he noticed all to late he couldn’t say anything about the fire if he didn’t want to attract the attention of the authorities, who surely were already looking for him. “I just found her.”

“So she was homeless?”

“Sort of. And it was recently” he added. The clothes of the child were far too good for a stray one. He had not seen any homeless children in Spain yet, though. He would have to be more careful about what he said.

“That’s fine. Did you take her in then? Didn’t call the police?”

“Only for a night, yes. Once I was sure she had no one” he quickly added.

“Kidnapping charges are the kind of thing you are trying to avoid,” he told himself.

“I was visiting this village with a friend and asked around,” he said, hoping he wasn’t linked to the hospital fugitive “There had been a... domestic accident. Both her parents were gone, and no one seemed to have the time to provide for the child anymore.”

“Oh, I know,” the woman said. “It was on the news. A terrible fire.”

She stopped and looked at him. Then, slowly, she stood up.

“I’m going to call the headmistress of the orphanage so they can meet and get the forms. I’ve... run out of them. Please stay here”.

If John knew one thing about social systems, was that they did not run out of forms. Not of every single one, at least, and he also knew there was a pile of them for him to complete. Or they would’ve been, because no headmistress was going to be bothered about the presence of another kid, specially when they did not know for sure if they were going to keep her. The piggy-eyed public worker had been rather obvious.

“Well, Flora” he said, in what could probably be the first direct talking he did to the child “I don’t like this place. We’re off”.

“I don’t like it either,” she said. John almost threw her to the floor. He had been sure she couldn’t talk yet for around twelve hours, even when he’d seen her walk and do the other child things like an expert. “And my name is Florencia”.

“Is it, now?” he asked, holding the girl against his shoulder with his left arm. He hoped she was comfortable enough. He was going to need the other hand to magic themselves out of the place.

“Cata’s mum changes it.”

“Oh,” he said. He pressed his palm against the closed door and the scent of sulfur filled the air. Then he opened it, finding everyone in the office peacefully sleeping, including the piggy eyed woman who was next to the phone. He gently removed the green handset from her hands and hung up. “And how old are you, Florencia?”

“Three. And a half”.

“Three and a half. Well then you sure have begun to study English at school!” he said. “Isn’t it?” he added, switching to his mother language.

“Yes,” she replied, with a perfect pronunciation. Not that the word was especially difficult to say, but some people in that country had already surprised them with some answers in an English that wasn’t completely understandable by an English person like himself.

“That is wonderful.” he answered, as the lift doors opened.

“What’s your name?” she asked, in clumsy English. He couldn’t help but smile.

Gods damn it. He was getting fond of the brat.

“John. My name is John”.


	2. The beginning of the end

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2007's Flo calls Dee. Dee happens to have a lot of things to think about.

John was in the middle of a bittersweet daydream on how very dramakingly he was going to enter the Flamels’ bookshop when his mobile phone rang. Had it been any other number in the screen, he wouldn’t have picked up, but it was Flo who was calling, and it was her finals that were happening.

He would hang up on Isis if Florencia needed him to, so getting him out of his the—end—of—the—Flamel plans was no a big deal.

“Hola, Florencia”.

“Don’t ‘hola Flo’ me, John Dee” the young woman answered, her voice in a higher pitch than usual. “I’m dying right now, right here. Which is the other corner of the world for you”.

“I left only days ago. And you are staying with Julius Prescott. No harm can come to you”.

“Drop the Regency talk, doc. Artista can’t save me from my Physiology exam”.

The Doctor smiled. Julius Prescott had always been one of the closest people to him, ever since they both were mortals, and in the period of history they were currently living in, he was basically his only true friend. He also happened to be Flo’s cool—uncle figure. But the girl was right anyhow: Physiology was not the kind of dragon that cliché of a knight in shining armour could save her from.

“Where is he?”

“Out for groceries. I... eh.... maybe made him uncomfortable with all the drama talking”

“You know he panics around your panic”

“Jeez. He’s awfully late for supper. I’m starving”

Dee didn’t bother to calculate what time it was in London —Florencia Cecil was always starving no matter the clock— but if Flo had used the term “supper”, it meant two things: she had already had an early dinner and it was way too late for her to stay up, specially the night before an exam.

“Do not tea yourself up. You probably look like a caffeine overdosed squirrel by now” he said, looking out the window. They were barely out of the airport: although he had known the Flamels’ current residence for some time now, he had been taking care of some business across the States before heading to San Francisco. It would require all his parenting skills, but he had plenty of time to make things right for his baby girl and send her off to bed so she could get a decent sleep. He only hoped the Golems held together a little bit longer than they already had in that horrid Californian weather.

“And what am I supposed to do?”

“Well, move your barricade to the sofa, brew yourself a valerian and play that Lord of the Rings Soundtrack you made me buy. And while you get to it”, he added, opening his handbag and getting his laptop, where he storaged a digital copy of Guyton and Hall Textbook of Medical Phisiology “tell me, sweetheart. What have humans done to you this time?”

“Pfft. A lot”.

“I know the feeling” he answered, as he hit the laptop, which didn’t seem able to turn on.

As the car headed for the bottom of the hill, John Dee checked his watch and got the stupid concern the Flamels could be out for lunch. He shook it off easily nevertheless. True, he had been talking to Flo a little more than planned, but she sounded serene when they said goodbye and had no more trouble regarding her exam. She was still nervous, but Julius was there with her —he had turned up only minutes after Flo had settled on the couch, actually—. 

And all that being—apart anguish was going to end soon enough, because neither Nicholas nor Perenelle were going to escape that time.

John hadn’t truly wanted to consider how Florencia would react when he finished the job. She had a doctor’s vocation, after all: everything she wanted was to help people. And he was playing a very important part on getting the people on Earth to a not—very—nice end. He had made sure she wouldn’t be touched, and was sure someone would take her in as their apprentice. Then she could learn, as much as she ever imagined to and more, in a world free of the human race that had done them so much wrong.

In the deepest part of his soul, the one that had miraculously escaped his ambition, his ego, and his hatred towards the Flamels, he knew there was not a thing he could say that would make his mission something that wasn’t utterly disgusting to Flo’s thinking, so he had never made an attempt to explain it. He had also come to realise that the ultimate end the Immemorials described him once and again to remind him how important and glorious his task was sounding duller and duller as time flowed. 

He told himself every morning humans were a plague, but by nighttime, he had been reminded oh so many times human souls were a blessing. Florencia was the best thing that had happened to him in centuries. She had reminded him what love was. He had been reunited with his best friend and he had been able to rest from the continuous search of the Flamels and dizzying missions his masters put him through. If her adoption had been the gods’ will, it definitely hadn’t been the work of the ones he praised, but that one of very different gods, those that were kind and light.

But even if he was having seconds thoughts about his mission, he couldn’t do anything about it if he wanted to keep his life intact. And that, he did.

John Dee stepped out of the car —and out of the air conditioner for that matter— and cursed his gentleman-ish choice of clothes. He should’ve listened to Julius and pack the Desigual part of his wardrobe. One of his oddly—themed long sleeve t-shirts would’ve done just fine under a neat blazer.

He looked up and met the striped awning that kept him from seen the name of the shop, but he had already had the time to learn such stupidity by heart. “The Small Book Shop”. Nicholas had always been quite a mediocre writer. Dee continued doing his bit of a rating of the establishment for a few moments, such a stereotype of a bookshop he couldn’t believe they had been hiding there for such a long time. It was almost an insult to John’s intelligence. The Doctor picked up a Christie with a very over coloured and dramatic cover and after reading the synopsis he decided it was going to be Flo’s trip present instead of the airport overpriced softcovers he used to get her. Revealing his presence with a spell wasn’t worth it when he could just turn around and place it in the car, but when his eyes met the café on the opposite side of the street, he felt there was something —or rather, someone— uncanny inside it. As the unsettled feeling ran along his spine, he tried to fight the bright afternoon light that kept him from knowing the exact nature of what his gut told him was something important... and old.

It was then John Dee decided it was not worth it risking this mission over a glamorous entrance, sent the book inside the car with a swift turn of his wrist and entered the shop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, here I am, months later. I sort of suspected this would happen but I'm gonna try and be more steady since I've discovered my writing flows way better after studying for a couple hours -studying for being a doc helps me to write THE doctor, what about that-. Anyway, special thanks to SerendipitousSong because their comment literally made me move my lazy ass and keep writing.
> 
> P.S.: Worry not, Julius Prescott the Artista is going to be properly introduced in the next chapter.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this is probably the first fic I've ever tried to publish and I'm excited about it but at the same time frightened as hell. So please, please, please leave a comment if you like it or if I've screwed up somewhere. Also, my mother language is not English, thank you very much. I'm planning to upload once or twice a week: since there are two timelines, the second option I think would be the best, but I'm in Medical school -so please be patient and remember I love you if you are reading this.


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